


Calor

by annejumps



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Bottom!Eames, Community: kink_bingo, Fucking Machines, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medical Kink, top!arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At least whoever it was, he’d probably not have to see him or her again. This was, after all, a clinic for omegas having their first heats. After they’d... done whatever it was they did, there’d be no need for him to come back again, would there? Thank God. He could make a spectacle of himself in front of at least one trained professional and never have to see anyone involved again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calor

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) Round 5 for the square _fucking machines_. Also written for [this kink meme prompt](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/20822.html?thread=50952278). And what the hell, it qualifies for the [heat meme](http://arthur-eames.dreamwidth.org/18159.html), too. Beta'd by [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/pseuds/anatsuno).

_calor (genitive calōris); m, third declension: warmth, heat; glow; heat of passion, zeal, ardour; fire of love, ardent love_

\-------

“Is this your first visit to us, sir?” the woman at the front desk asked kindly, but impersonally, distracted with paperwork.

“Er, yes,” Eames replied, resisting the urge to fan himself. Christ, it was hot in here. As far as he was concerned, it was hot everywhere, even though it was winter.

“Don’t be nervous, sir. You’ll be fine. Dr. Levine is very professional,” the woman said, with a brief but still reassuring smile. “Your wait shouldn’t be long.”

Fifteen minutes later, a nurse called his name. He followed her through the door and down a low-lit hallway. Like the waiting room, the hallway was clean, sparingly decorated, painted in soothing dark colors -- deep lavenders, mauves. Sconces with scented candles lined the way. Soft music played, and decorative fountains trickled at a few side tables. All the same, Eames was nervous. In the cool, dry, scented air, he was still sweating, and he still had an erection.

The nurse took him around a corner and down another hall, to a door, and showed him inside. “Sir, if you’ll just change into these pajamas and make yourself comfortable on the exam table. Dr. Levine will see you shortly. Would you like any water or tea or fruit?”

“Cold water, please,” Eames said, unbuttoning his shirt almost frantically.

The nurse reached into a small refrigerator under a counter and retrieved a bottle for him; he could see there was some fruit in there as well. “There’s more there if you need it. Would you like any aromatherapy?”

Eames shed his shirt, wishing she would leave. “Er, yes. Something soothing, please.”

“Of course, sir. Please, make yourself comfortable. Ring this bell if you need me to bring you anything.” She pointed to a button on the wall, next to the head of the exam table.

Eames, alone in the room, took off his shoes, almost frantic, nearly tripping over them. He shed his trousers and underwear, and inhaled as the new soothing scent started to fill the room. It was cool in here, so cool that the sweat on his skin was making him shiver. And yet he was still so hot, his blood boiling.

He considered not putting on the pajamas at all, but the air conditioning was giving him goosebumps, and perhaps it wasn’t for the best to be completely naked when the doctor came in.

Eames pulled on the soft, cotton-silk pajamas, sat down on the leather exam table, and wondered about the doctor. He was probably going to be an old man. The older the better, Eames thought. This was embarrassing enough without having a young, attractive doctor. Of either gender.

At least whoever it was, he’d probably not have to see him or her again. This was, after all, a clinic for omegas having their first heats. After they’d... done whatever it was they did, there’d be no need for him to come back again, would there? Thank God. He could make a spectacle of himself in front of at least one trained professional and never have to see anyone involved again.

The pajamas were cool, soft, and dry -- everything Eames wasn’t right now. He sighed, pressing the bottle of cool water to his forehead and neck before opening it to drink.

There was a knock on the door, and Eames spluttered before swallowing and calling out, “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal a handsome young man in a lab coat. He couldn’t have been much older than Eames, if at all (though, granted, Eames was having a first heat rather late in life). He was tall, lean, wearing a shirt and tie under a v-neck jumper under his lab coat, with expensive-looking trousers and leather shoes.

His dark brown hair was slicked back, most likely in some sort of attempt to make himself look older. He had lovely brown eyes and a cupid’s-bow mouth, and he looked Eames over with slightly raised eyebrows, his expression otherwise neutral as he glanced down at the folder in his (beautiful) hand.

 _Please don’t be Dr. Levine_ , Eames thought.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Levine,” the man said, in a surprisingly deep and rather sexy voice.

Eames felt his temperature rise an impossible ten degrees. “Hello,” he stammered, inwardly cursing the way his entire body pulsed with interest.

Dr. Levine closed the door, and walked over to the exam table. He looked over Eames’ paperwork. “William Eames?”

“Er, yes.”

Dr. Levine set the folder aside and stepped closer. He put his hands in his trouser pockets, and was entirely too close for comfort. Eames could see from his nametag that his first name was Arthur.

“Are you comfortable, William?”

“Call me Eames, please, and no, I’m bloody well not comfortable.” That sounded huffier than Eames intended but he couldn’t really bring himself to care.

“My apologies, Eames. Perhaps I should say, is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable under the circumstances?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know what all it is you do here,” Eames grumbled.

“Eames, please just lay back and relax. There’s a pillow behind you there.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Levine, but how will that help? I don’t exactly want to... lie back and go to sleep.”

“I understand, but I need you to relax first. As much as possible. If you’re agitated, it makes things much more difficult.”

Eames sighed, and laid back. Of course, this made it much more obvious that he had an erection. He stared at the ceiling.

“I need to check your heart rate,” Dr. Levine told him, moving aside the fabric of Eames’ tunic, which did not fasten in the front. His fingers were cool on Eames’ skin. The stethoscope was freezing, however, and Eames gasped. “Just breathe,” Dr. Levine told him calmly. Eames did his best to breathe deeply and evenly.

Dr. Levine’s cool fingers checked the pulse in his neck. Although lying back had its merits, namely that he was less exhausted, Eames was not at all calmed by Dr. Levine’s proximity. He must have caught Eames’ little frustrated sigh, because he said, “Eames, you have nothing to worry about. I’ll just explain your symptoms, the best way to handle them, how to keep yourself from getting pregnant when you don’t want to be, and how you might want to use our machine for relief, if you choose to purchase one for your home.”

Eames nodded. “Right.”

Dr. Levine turned to pick up several pamphlets. “This covers the basic information you’ll want to refer to in the future.” He set the pamphlets next to Eames’ clothes.

“And there’s no need to be embarrassed,” he continued. “This is a biological process. It’s an urge beyond your control, and we understand that. We want to help you manage it.”

“Please hurry up, then,” Eames said, and Dr. Levine laughed.

“All right, all right.” He explained why Eames’ body temperature went up what his hormones were doing, and what medications he could take to curb his ovulation, something Eames was interested in doing. It was not all new information; Eames had absorbed a lot of it already in his life as an omega. But now that he’d started a cycle, things were beginning to feel real. Dr. Levine was professional, but good-natured. Eames almost forgot that his presence still had him hard and sweating, despite any amount of cool water and soothing scents.

“Now, I know you must be uncomfortable,” Dr. Levine said, “and I’m sorry to take so long getting to the part where we explain to you how you can... ease your discomfort.”

Eames just nodded, wildly curious and impatient.

Dr. Levine went to a closet, and wheeled out something under a cloth. This must be the machine he talked about. He removed the cover, and set it aside. The machine had a probe attached. A sizeable probe.

“Now, Eames,” Dr. Levine said evenly, “I’m guessing that for twenty-four to forty-eight hours, you’ve been craving penetration.”

Eames swallowed. “Putting it somewhat mildly, yes.”

“You’ve been lubricating.”

“Yes.” Eames’ mouth, however, was dry, and he took a drink of water.

“Well, we’re very proud of this machine. Unlike a handheld toy, it’s got enough steady power to it to supply a satisfying experience. And unlike most partners, it’s tireless. While we don’t encourage patients to completely exhaust themselves, it does meet most of our patients’ needs.”

Eames stared at the probe, then looked at Dr. Levine, eyebrows raised. “Are you going to be in here with me while it’s on?”

Dr. Levine looked startled. “I usually am at first to get everything started, but I don’t have to stay.”

“I’d like you to stay,” Eames decided. Dr. Levine blushed. Eames’ cock spurted precome at the realization, and he stifled a groan. He was soaking through these damned pajamas.

“Right, that’s it,” Eames declared, and stripped off his tunic. “This is unbearable.” He got out of the trousers as well, sighing as the cool air hit his skin. But of course, that wasn’t enough. Once naked, he sat up, looking to Dr. Levine, who seemed tongue-tied, looking over Eames’ body. Perhaps despite his brief exam he hadn’t expected Eames to look so much like a tough under the pajamas, with his tattoos, muscles, chest hair and all. Maybe he had tiresome preconceptions of what omegas were like.

“Do I need to get on my hands and knees?” Eames asked, impatient, snapping Dr. Levine from his distraction.

“Uh, yes,” he said, going to the machine, getting it closer to the table, looking over various dials. He was definitely flustered as he fit a plastic sleeve over the probe.

Feeling a sense of finality, Eames closed his eyes. At last, relief was close at hand. This had been a hellish thirty-six or so hours.

Dr. Levine cleared his throat. “All right, well, I’d better get some gel on the probe--”

“I won’t need it,” Eames said, backing up toward the edge of the table. “Just. Please.”

Dr. Levine rolled the machine a bit closer, Eames could hear, and then he felt the probe at his entrance, and then sliding in deeper. Eames tried not to hyperventilate; it felt so good. “I’m going to turn it on now,” Dr. Levine said in his lovely voice. Eames nodded fervently.

It slid in deeper, then back out, almost all the way. Slow. Eames shifted his hips to follow it. He wasn’t sure at first, but he heard Dr. Levine moving it slightly closer.

Eames moaned quietly. The probe was such a perfect size, perfect width. It made him feel so very full. He groaned, dropping his head, hands curling into fists.

“Do you... want it faster?” Dr. Levine said, sounding a bit hoarse.

“Please,” Eames groaned.

Dr. Levine did something, and the machine sped up. Eames sighed, high in his throat, and shifted his knees further apart on the exam table’s paper-covered leather.

This machine wouldn’t tire, wouldn’t go soft. He was here simply to be fucked by it. Fucked until he came, until maybe, just maybe he’d finally be rid of this heat. For this month, at least.

And Dr. Levine was here watching him. He’d gone quiet, Dr. Levine had.

After a few more minutes -- although admittedly, he was losing track of time -- Eames realized his forehead was slick with sweat. “Doctor,” he said, and swallowed. “I’m-- my brow--”

“Yes.” Dr. Levine, Eames gathered, found a flannel and dampened it, because just as Eames was getting lost again in the feel of the machine fucking him, he realized Dr. Levine was standing at the head of the exam table, wiping off his forehead. He glanced up at him, conscious of how wanton he must look, and not caring, in fact, liking it. Flushed, panting, legs spread, fucking himself on and being fucked by this inexorable machine here in this pristine office, in front of this pristine doctor.

Dr. Levine’s ears were pink, his dark eyes gone almost black, heavy-lidded. He was breathing hard, Eames could tell, but otherwise, there were no other signs of his prurient interest in these proceedings.

It was suddenly infuriating. Dr. Levine could stand there just watching, silent?

Eames shifted his weight to one arm and reached for his tie, yanking him closer. “Arthur. Kiss me,” he demanded, using the name he’d gleaned from the tag, since saying “Dr. Levine. Kiss me” seemed a bit ridiculous.

Arthur blinked at him, and then leaned in to kiss him, decisive and nimble. He cupped Eames’ jaw and slid his tongue along the seam of Eames’ lips; Eames opened his mouth on a gasp of surprise, and Arthur’s tongue swept in to claim him. Eames loosened his hold on Arthur’s tie.

The table was shaking slightly, though Eames tried to keep himself steady with both hands again, and Arthur suddenly moved to grip Eames’ hair at the back of his head to brace him. The kiss was sure, deep. Between it and the constant pounding, Eames was careening toward what was sure to be the most intense orgasm of his life.

Then he caught something in Arthur’s taste. Barely perceptible, but it was there. It was in his scent now, too. Eames gasped when he realized what it was, and broke the kiss.

“You’re-- you’re an--” he breathed.

Arthur licked his lips. “Alpha. Yes.” He looked rueful, despite the fact that his eyes were black with lust.

“You suppress it.” Eames sounded as accusatory as he could manage under the circumstances. “Do you take advantage of us?”

“No,” Arthur said. “I thought I could help. I want to help. I almost completely suppress it with the drugs.”

“But you respond to me.” Eames was still rocking with the machine, wondering how long he’d have to take it before his body finally gave him release.

“Yes. It’s very rare, I assure you.”

“If you want to help me so badly, Arthur, get up here and fuck me instead of this machine doing it,” Eames managed to say. “Take me.”

“I can’t,” Arthur said breathlessly, right away. “You’re not on any contraceptive.”

“Surely there’s a proper condom somewhere in this damned office,” Eames said, thinking of the plastic sleeve Arthur had put over the probe.

Arthur set his jaw and looked at Eames levelly, ridiculous as that was. “No. I can’t mate you with a condom, Eames. I’m not going to try to mate you in this office.”

Arthur went to the machine, and turned it up a notch. Eames was distracted from his frustration. He was barely cognizant of Arthur getting his hand slicked up with that gel he’d been talking about, on the counter, and then wrapping his hand around Eames’ cock.

Eames started fucking into his hand immediately, barely listening as Arthur whispered in his ear, “You’re going to come now, like this. You’ll get on that pill. I’m going to give you my card, and when you need me, I will give you exactly what you want. What you need.”

Eames panted, his head dropping, his eyes closed. He came, slick and tight around the probe, Arthur’s hand slick and tight around his cock.

He almost sobbed with relief.

Once every bit of Eames’ orgasm was wrung from him, Arthur quickly moved to turn off the machine, and slowly withdrew it. Eames sank forward onto the exam table’s welcoming leather. He soon found himself being cleaned, and appreciated the gentleness, the competence through his blissful haze. He was turned over, and draped in thin, soft blankets. His skin was no longer hot, the sweat cooling.

“Rest here for a while,” Arthur said in a low, calm voice, “then have a snack and get dressed.” Eames felt a kiss to his forehead before he drifted off.

The nurse came in to wake him, and once she left, he had an apple and some water, and dressed again. Arthur’s card was resting on his neatly folded trousers.

\-------

Weeks later, Eames rang the number on Arthur’s card, and left a message.

“Er, this is William Eames. I don’t know if you remember me. I’ve been taking that pill, and I thought I was doing so as instructed but it does feel like I’ve another heat coming on. I was hoping you might be able to check and make sure it’s working properly? Thanks, I’ll--”

“Hello, Eames?”

“Oh, er. Dr. Levine. Arthur.”

“Yes. I’d say that’s fairly normal, especially since this is your first month on the pill. Rest assured you won’t come into a full heat, you’ll just feel uncomfortable for a few days.”

“Right, well.” Speaking of feeling uncomfortable, Eames was right now, just at the sound of Arthur’s voice, even though he sounded like he was trying to be as impersonal as possible. “Is there a way to... make that stop?”

“Well, there’s our machine, which I don’t know if you purchased when you were here--”

“Perhaps something more personal,” Eames interrupted. He’d wanted to ring Arthur the day after his clinic visit, but it had seemed foolish to do it that soon. Now, he had an excuse. No, a reason. He heard Arthur swallow.

“Arthur,” Eames said, “did you mean what you said to me that day I was there? That you’d give me what I need? Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Arthur waited a beat, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower. “I meant it.”

“So mate me. I’m yours.” Eames’ heart was pounding. He heard Arthur exhale. “I know you know it. You responded to me despite your suppression drug. I’m responding to you just hearing your voice even with the pill, Christ.”

“Eames--”

“I’m hanging up now, Arthur. My address is in my file. Come to me.”

\-------

A mere hour after they hung up, Eames had Arthur balls deep inside him.

It was not like any sex with any past partners. And it was not like the machine in the office. The machine was impersonal, relentless, the same on every thrust. That had its definite merits, but Arthur -- Arthur mouthed and bit at his neck, clutched his hip, went slower or faster based on how frantic it made Eames. He breathed hotly against Eames’ skin, panted words about how wonderful Eames was, and was nearly as inexhaustible as that machine.

But a machine couldn't knot with Eames.

It wasn’t easy, but he took the swelling at the base of Arthur’s cock, relishing the stretch, and in due time was flooded with his come. Arthur was so good to him while they were tied, so sweet, pressing kisses to his skin and murmuring to him. When they parted, Arthur cleaned him up, and they slept in each other’s arms under the cool cotton sheets.

It was understood now: they were mates. And as promised, Arthur was exactly what he wanted and needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/), [Amy,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asunder) Liz, and Julia for all your help!


End file.
